Vacancy

Job or task, big or small, Ise Nanao can do it. This mini-series, originally titled "one woman task force".

Poetess

Ise Nanao lived and breathed practicality. It was what had made her indispensible as Eighth Division Vice-Captain and general go-to among the higher ups in the Administration. She had a mind for organization and numbers, or really, just about anything she set that mind to do. Long ago, she had decided she might as well do what she did best, even if that wasn't particularly what interested her.

Nanao had read enough and knew a wide enough circle to have heard the saying about greener pastures, but sometimes that didn't really help her wandering mind. It wasn't as if she was jealous of her Captain's carefree life; she didn't desire to be hapless or lazy. But sometimes she did wish her life weren't quite so structured or set by routine. A bit of spontaneity was good for the soul, or at least it would do hers some good. It was in that frame of mind she'd set out a few years ago to let herself be goaded into a New Year's party with one Matsumoto Rangiku.

It had been every bit the disaster that Nanao had feared, but she was glad, in retrospect that she'd gone. If nothing else, maybe she'd gotten to know a few members of the other Divisions a little better. It hadn't really helped that she'd gotten into a spat with Iba. If she ever caught that stupid monkey alone, he'd be sorry he ever called her a "flat chested nobody". Sure, it had been years ago, but her memory was just fine.

New Years had come and gone with all its parties and revelry, so she wasn't sure just why she was thinking of it. Only, a quick glance at her coffee table reminded her quite well. Tucked into one of her favorite novels was where she'd hidden it.

It hadn't even exactly been a spur of the moment thing. Not the way her Captain did it, anyway. Hers had been quiet and deliberate. She'd written with slow, steady strokes, giving every word weight. She rolled her eyes at her over-dramatization... as if it had been so important.

In short, she'd written a poem.

Worse, she'd written it about her Captain. Worse yet, she'd written it about him in the same seedy manner in which he always wrote about her. It was complete with references to snowy nights and cascading moonlight. She'd even been so bold as to mention the sweet saltiness of his skin and the sheen of sweat.

Nanao frowned hard and snatched up the book and quick dug the sheaf of papers out. It was parchment paper, some of her finest. She'd used her favorite ink, her best brush… and here she was, utterly embarrassed by it.

He'd be proud of her if he knew. Not only had she managed to compose a poem but she'd revised it and rewritten it multiple times, she'd even endeavored to present it in a pleasing way on her finest papers.

Of course, now that'd she'd done it, she wished she hadn't. Nor, for that matter could she remember why she'd wanted to. Had it been because she'd felt challenged? Had someone casually tossed it at her? Telling her to "live a little"? It sounded familiar but people often did such things with frivolity and she rarely recalled them. Now, she supposed, it wasn't important, the deed was done.

And she was perplexed as to what she ought to do with it.

A quick glance down at her paper brought her a reminder of sweet almond eyes and she looked away in dismay.

For one, brief moment of amusement she thought of composing another. Dedicating it to her Captain, as she compared him to her favorite sweet cake… it was enough to make her lips quirk as she stood up. He would enjoy it far too much and assume something even greater, so she would never dare. Still, his reaction might be worth it to try it someday.

As she wandered toward her bedroom she smoothed the papers, stacking them neatly in her hand. Her brief foray into poetry, too much work to casually discard, would be tucked away. Eventually, maybe, she could share it with Hinamori.